“Speak up.” Sigvid sinks the blade of his other axe into his shoulder blade.
The Battlemaster throws his head back, grimacing as blood oozes from his new wound.
“The depository of the Ridge Province accepted our coin for you.” He snarls. “In the name of Lord Leto.” His laugh sounds more like a bark.
That slimy son of a bitch. Paid me to remove Rendel’s head only to sell me to the bloody fucking Arena?
“This whole Arena deserves to burn. Kar,” Sigvid hollers, “help me with him.”
“Why can’t we just leave him?” Kar runs a frantic hand through his gray braid.
“We are cooking his ass.” Sigvid remains stoic as it takes both men to shift the giant man into the cauldron. “His head in the flames.”
At those words, the Battlemaster squirms in vain.
They hold him over the crackling fire and lower his head into the heat. His screams make Sigvid laugh.
“You should have more respect for other people’s property.”
The fire spreads up his body, and his shrieks quiet. With his head still in the cauldron, they drop him and allow the fire to consume the rest of his monstrous form. The wretched smell of burning flesh fills the small space.
At least now, I can enjoy the scent and softness of the little Queen’s hair whenever I choose.
Sigvid does not give the burning man a second glance, choosinginstead to approach Grim, who slumps upright. “Welcome back.” Sigvid grins.
Grim blinks heavily as his head spins around the corridor.
“Did I kill you, too?” He mumbles in jest until his hand connects with the floor, and realization dawns on him. “Whydidn’t you kill me? That is the one thing you knew I wanted. To reunite with Evie.”
Sigvid recognizes the signs of betrayal that rake his friend’s expression. “I can not allow you to ascend. Not yet.” He kneels so he can meet his midnight eyes. “Because I found Samson.”
Partially true.
He knows Grim’s thirst for vengeance against Samson will evaporate any animosity he feels at being denied a chance to move on. Sigvid is also a selfish bastard who isn’t about to let his new friend die in the fucking Arena.
Grim’s lips curl up into a twisted smile. “Then I believe I am in your debt, Beast.” He starts to stand, then stops. “Wait, how did you do it?”
“I will explain on the way. If we do not get moving, we will have to fight the sentries again, and this time, there will not be a convenient backup.”
Kar and Sigvid lift Grim to his feet.
His test to knock out his friend was entirely theoretical. Good thing he was right. He would have needed to kill someone if Grim hadn’t survived.
The three abandon the smoldering remains of the Battlemaster. He catches Grim’s nose, sniffing in disgust as they pass the open door to the Assessment Room. There will be time to regale the story of their daring escape when the Arena is at their backs.
They enter the main hallway, wrapping around the combatant corridors to see every cell door open, allowing the combatants–man and creature–to escape.
Several fellow combatants run past Sigvid, thanking him, with a few even requesting to join his ranks.
“To everyone who will swear fealty to Sigvid Thordsson, follow me!” He hollers as the sound of frantic footsteps fills the halls.
Creaks and slams greet his ears as they emerge into the overcast sky.
“Where the fuck are my horses?” Sigvid demands when the Drengr, who should have awaited him with his and Grim’s getaway, are missing.
Kar gapes at the space in the trees. “We had your stallion, Hest, and a spare chestnut. Helga and the Timber Queen should have come this way.”
“Let’s get moving.” Sigvid growls.
